


She Deserves It

by ladywongs



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywongs/pseuds/ladywongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takizawa’s screams are just too much for her birdie heart to take, so Hinami decides to take refuge inside Ayato’s room. “Can I… can I stay here for a while?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Deserves It

**Author's Note:**

> Ayahina for the cuties. Sorry for any writing issues!

 

**She Deserves It**

**_—o—_ **

 

_Ahh! My… my eyes… yes, yes, that’s right… twist and chop… ha, that’s right… ahh, no, no! Eto, no!_

Takizawa’s screams are, to be honest, unbearable.

Over time Ayato managed to get used to the delusions that Aogiri represented as an organization, someway or another, these were included in the package and Ayato found himself corrupted enough on the inside to even bother that much. He had witnessed worse things than the constant tortures Eto employed in that poor bastard during chilly nights; his hands were stained with too much blood to even crumple his face and pretend annoyance due the impossibility of getting some sleep that night. Getting upset for something like that would have converted him into a hypocrite and if there was something Ayato hated above all things, was hypocrisy.

However, that did not remove Ayato’s desire to punch Eto with a fucking wooden chair for being so noisy.

Under the dim of the room the boy sighs, lying on his bed with the same clothes he used that day to wear his sins, staring at the opaque ceiling with somber features, his hands resting behind his neck absently like if he’s staring at the stars, but there above there’s nothing but darkness. It’s been years since Ayato doesn’t look up to the sky, it’s been years since Ayato doesn’t hear nor appreciate anything else but screams, blood, death and tortures. A vicious circle that goes on and on and Ayato can’t complain, he _must not_ complain.

He does not care, either.

When the screaming show suddenly turns into deafening cheers that prevent him from hearing the beats of his own withered heart, she opens the door.

And Ayato doesn’t seem surprised.

He could kick her out, of course. He could take the nearest object around him and throw it down to her muttering a steely _“get the hell out of here, idiot!”_ but he does not. Not when, for the first time in the whole day, the gap in that door brightens weekly his room with her presence. Despite the distance, Ayato can notice perfectly her delicate silhouette, thin and shakily, fearful eyes that hide tears and Ayato tightens onto the mattress.

Hinami bends slowly by the rim of the door, without opening it completely, and the gap makes Takizawa’s screams be heard with more intensity.

“A-Ayato…” she murmurs, gently, “Can I… can I stay here for a while?”

And Ayato cannot just simply say _no_. Not when he knows perfectly the main reason of her appeal. Hinami is not used to the atmosphere surrounding them, Hinami is giggles when Aogiri is cries of madness, Hinami is fantasy books when Aogiri is horror stories. Hinami is life; life at first sight, and Aogiri represents to her the vilest of deaths. Ayato doesn’t understand why she comes to him in times of distress, why she takes refuge in his presence to escape from the terror when Ayato sees himself as death itself, the demon made flesh, what can he have that she can appreciate? What is in him that makes her breathe easy? But Hinami is a reader; her eyes see through things, she knows how to read between lines. To her, Ayato is just a black rabbit from Wonderland caught up in Horrorland.

_Say no, idiot, say no…_

Ayato snorts, irritated as fuck.

“Why you always have to act like a fucking three-year-old girl all the time,” he replies, without looking at her. His eyes staring straight at the ceiling and during long seconds Hinami stays still in her place, without knowing what to do whilst Takizawa’s screams turn into psycho laughs. Ayato sighs, troublesome, “why are you still there doing nothing? Just get in already.”

Hinami’s movements are fast as the fluttering of a butterfly. She closes the door immediately and her bare feet scurry to Ayato’s bed carrying a green blanket with her. Ayato doesn’t need to move aside, the bed is large enough for Hinami’s little body to fit perfectly by his side making sure to not create any kind of physical contact between them—to not upset him and gaining a ticket out of his room—like touching his arm with her elbow or something like that, however, that’s not even necessary. Ayato’s heart is already shivering as the heart of a rabbit, tiny and slippery.

Hinami fits on his side in a fetal position, protecting herself with the broken blanket like a little child. Her shoulders jolting occasionally due Takizawa’s screams that become more frantic every passing minute, the girl’s poor hands gliding towards her ears to cover them tenderly, hoping such act can appease the growling of the monsters she fears so much, but nothing seems to help. Ayato watches her, sideways, insecure and annoyed, he has no idea of how to deal with this kind of situations. He’s not used to bringing comfort; he is a destroyer by nature.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes after a couple minutes, not sure of speak or just stay in silence, “he… screams too much. I couldn’t sleep.”

Takizawa’s screams became something daily inside Aogiri Tree. There were screams of joy when he managed to capture the prey he was chasing endlessly. There were screams of rage when he noticed something that was not to his liking. There were screams of pleasure when he tasted the blood of his victims. And there were screams of pain when Eto suddenly decided to appear inside the Aogiri barracks in complete silence, the members of the organization stepping away immediately at seeing her coming with wrath resting upon her wings of fallen angel. She locked up herself inside a room and her favorite toy came to the scenario, then the torture began. Ayato supposed that was the only way she had to blurt out her frustrations, Tatara ordering everyone to not even dare to bother her.

 _She’s busy,_ he said.

Despite all, Ayato was used to that. But Hinami speaks again, insecure, and Ayato doesn’t get why she does that. “Eto wanted me to see it.”

Ayato clenches his jaw firmly, blood boiling inside his veins and he curses Eto in his mind. It's not like Ayato was the more righteous person on earth, but he sees it unfair for Hinami to be obligated to witness something as horrific as that. He says nothing, hoping she may fall asleep upon the mattress once and for all, but she continues on speaking.

“Sometimes she scares me a bit,” she mutters, lower this time, and Ayato swallows, “sometimes I’m afraid that… that she may…”

Ayato disrupts almost immediately, unconscious of his own words.

“She won’t do anything to you,” replies harshly, not because Hinami’s approach is dumb or silly, but because the mere image of Eto using Hinami as one of her torture toys makes his guts burn like hell, “you work with me, I need you in one piece.”

Hinami, that till now maintained her sight hidden behind her weary eyes, looks up and rests her head on her little arm, her eyes squint Ayato’s stoic face and during a moment, she forgets Takizawa’s yells. There, under the cloudy moonlight that penetrates the window of his room, his skin blanches like a white rabbit. His frowned eyebrows and stray eyes remind her inevitably of Touka, the kind of expression she had when Kaneki left and she spent her days looking at the window crying crystal tears.

So Hinami asks. She can’t help it, it is something that has been locked inside her mind during the last few weeks and that moment seems to be the right one to rekindle the old topic once again, the only second both can grant to themselves.

“Why did you help me?” She whispers, and it’s the first time that Ayato turns his head to face her, confused. His eyes are dark as the universe and Hinami doesn’t feel intimidated. “With Tatara. When he ordered me that… that I…”

Hinami doesn’t think it’s necessary to give any details, for Ayato understands exactly what she means and for long minutes he doesn’t answer. During minutes the inner silence that overwhelms them overshadows Takizawa’s screams and Ayato looks at the ceiling, frowning, hands resting behind his head and his nails scratch the rough skin of his neck and he asks himself, sincerely, why.

_Why? Why? Why did you help her?_

Ayato seeks between the thorns that abound in the withered forest of his heart and, unfortunately, he can’t seem to find an answer. There’s nothing, everything is empty because every action in his life had a purpose, an origin, a root, a motive. What was the motive of helping a girl he doesn’t even know that well? A weak and stupid girl when he hates weakness? His sister is weak, his father was weak…

Why did you help her?

“Ayato…”

“I don’t know.”

That is the only answer she receives from his lips. That is the only answer she will have, because Ayato is not sure enough if he will be able to find the courage to find another, one for which he may seem forced to open his heart and he’s not used, his heart is not used to abandon the oxidation that for centuries enveloped him and he’s afraid, he’s so afraid.

And Hinami understands. She, the one who learned to read between lines, understands his stoic look and trembling lips. Hinami smiles a bit, looking away, and Takizawa’s screams don’t sound so scary anymore.

“When I met you,” she starts, doubting, “I thought you will hate me.”

Ayato wants to cuss, irritated, he wants to shut her down and send her to sleep as the brat she is, after all, he was also trying to get some sleep and Takizawa’s screams were annoying enough for him to now have to deal with Hinami’s childish little voice as well. However, Ayato sees himself wrapped into a deep curiosity. Pretending not to care, he asks.

“Why?”

“I am close to your sister,” she replies, her voice lulling the room like a lullaby and her answer insinuates something too obvious that for Ayato doesn’t make any sense.

He frowns.

“And?” The way he inquires makes Hinami giggle a bit.

She looks so innocent. “You… hate your sister…”

Ayato sighs, weary features and heavy heart.

“Whatever had happened between me and her it’s none of your business,” he claims between his teeth, “you have nothing to do with that.”

Hinami doesn’t quite understand if his answer is a good or bad thing, if he got mad or if he’s just trying not to care, but Touka’s mention causes—in both—a deep pain. Maybe both miss her in their own way, maybe Hinami begs for forgiveness and Ayato pleads not to miss her at all, to not faint at the mention of a name that every day becomes heavier. Touka used to be such a light word, so insignificant, so non-existent.

 _Touka._  
_Touka who?_ And his psycho killer laugh helped not to hurt that much.

But that doesn’t happen anymore.

_Touka. Touka. Touka._

It’s like a call, the heartbeat of a distant heart that cries out his name and Ayato feels himself doubting. His feet in the middle of a crowd faltering with doubting movements that provokes on Eto curious glances. Adrenaline rushes that threatens him to do something he must not because _it’s too late, don’t be a dick, it doesn’t make any sense…_

Then comes Hinami and the feeling increases its intensity, and during an instant Ayato hates her for it.

“I miss her so much,” she whispers, barely conscious, and Ayato can’t find the courage to shut her down, “I’m sure she hates me.”

Ayato feels his body tense as a rock. He wants to ask, he wishes to ask… why? Why she’d hate her? What could have Hinami possibly done to gain the hate of a person so weak and emotional like his sister?

Or, maybe…

Did his sister hate him too?

“I left,” she says, more to herself rather than to Ayato, continuing with a conversation he never asked to have in the first place, “I left her.”

It’s like stare at his own reflection in a mirror.

During an instant, Ayato can’t help it.

 _I left her too,_ he thinks.

Ayato knows he had enough when he feels his eyes burning pathetically and takes advantage of the sudden silence that comes through the door, he takes advantage that Takizawa’s screams are gone and it’s a chance to not have to answer anything at all. He sighs, tired, clearing his throat, disposed to break the stress of the moment.

“Hinami,” says, pulling off his hands of his head to lie down in bed in a proper position, “just sleep already, okay? We have stuff to do tomorrow.”

Without waiting for any kind of answer, Ayato turns around to show her his back, his eyes glued on the cloudy moon beneath the window, and seconds pass by and his eyes can’t stay closed not even for a minute. But Hinami knows that, because Hinami is a reader, and with the courage she doesn’t possess and the tenderness that defines her, she asks again.

“You miss her too, right?”

Ayato closes his eyelids. He wants to silence her, he wants to yell at her so that she never mentions his sister's name again but his voice is rammed inside his throat and his bravery sinks in deep abyss.

Ayato was born to destroy.

Hinami was born to bring comfort.

“She misses you too,” whispers, her voice and his own closed eyes create a mix of inexplicable feelings. Like a mother reading his son fantasy books before going to bed, because everything is a complete and absurd fantasy. How could his sister ever, in this world, miss him? “I’ve heard her talking in her sleep. Sometimes she says your name.”

Ayato doesn’t want to admit it, but he murmurs her name in nightmares too.

“That’s why you came?” He sasses, giving up, turning around to face the ceiling again, her constant interruptions depriving him of sleeping and he doesn’t feel strong or intimidating anymore. “To tell me about her?”

Hinami shakes her head even if he can’t see her. “No,” she says quietly, staring at his face, “but you remind me of her and… I feel… calm wherever I’m with you. You guys look alik—“

“We do not look alike.” He disrupts, feeling uncomfortable.

Hinami watches his frowned brows, her little hands surrounding the blanket and she flicks up her forehead. Her cheeks turn into red and something inside her wants to come out, something Hinami fights to keep in her chest with all her might, but her childish soul can’t help it.

She laughs.

Ayato jumps out in his place at the sudden sound of her giggles. He opens his eyes, confused, and the bed starts giving slow shakes whilst Hinami’s laugh expands inside the room. What before was screams of pain now was laughs of joy. Ayato growls, annoyed, giving her a look of pure hatred. Hinami laughs even more as she dwells in his frowned brows and pursed lips and the wrinkles due a poor illumination distorting his face of big boy.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ayato growls, the bed moves even more and Hinami staggers on the mattress, “what the hell are you laughing at? Stop laughing, you idiot!”

Hinami’s eyes shimmer and Ayato doesn’t get it. The girl throws her head back and starts wriggling in the bed and her mouth expands and her face reddens and Ayato frowns again, terribly uncomfortable. He’s not used to this, he doesn’t want to get used to this.

“Y-Your… face…” she babbles between chuckles.

That makes him even angrier.

“Do you think you can just come her and do whatever the hell you wa—“

“Y-You’re as s-stubborn as your sister.” Hinami jests with giggles that little by little decrease its intensity, her hand lies down in her chest and breathes slowly with tiredness, her features showing a smile that makes Ayato shiver, and not due a cold.

“I’m not stubb—˝

Ayato stops, and Hinami chuckles again, a game that she seems to conquer with the major of experiences. Ayato sighs, he knows it’s pointless to carrying on with this, so he turns his eyes back at the ceiling and, this time, is serious, wondering how in the world Takizawa’s screams have turned into this.

This, laughter and goosebumps, redden cheeks and hearts beating new blood like crazy.

Ayato loses himself into a ceiling with no stars and Hinami is lost in his features of big boy. Her hands rests on her cheeks, surrounded by her blanket, and her eyes dwells in his face poorly illuminated by the moonlight. Then she asks herself… if she was a writer, what type of words she would choose to describe him? Because Hinami is good with words yet she doesn’t seem to find an accurate one that can apply to him, at his severe features and eyes that for instants look kind, at his corrupted soul that desperately searches for some rest and his pursed lips that almost seemed to smile at the sound of her laughter. His peaceful aura that envelops her weakness whispering an invisible _I will protect you_ that he never said but she always knew. Because by his side Hinami feels safe, because Ayato is unpredictable and yet she knows that he would stand in between if someone tries to harm her. Because _the black rabbit is evil_ , they said, and still his rebel spirit interfered with Tatara himself just to help her.

She wonders what Touka would say at his strange kindness.

Then, unexpectedly, the walls are broken. His rabbit mask breaks down and Hinami sees him. She sees _him_. He’s not the black rabbit anymore, he’s not Touka’s brother, he’s not the fearsome member of Aogiri.

He’s just Ayato Kirishima.

The human.

“You asked me if I miss her,” he murmurs, too slow and down, but Hinami’s skilled ears can hear him perfectly, “sometimes I do.”

Then there’s silence, and Hinami doesn’t push him to keep talking. Ayato swallows, he knows he’ll regret this later; he knows he knows he knows and yet he doesn’t stop. His eyes travel to Hinami during a moment to check her expression, and she pays attention to him like if he’s something important, like if his words are worthy to be heard and were not just orders that must be followed. His words aren’t empty, they mean something and Ayato doesn’t know how to feel about it. He looks back at the ceiling; his hands tremble behind his head.

“Sometimes I feel she’ll just pop out, out of the blue, to yell at me for something like she used to. The last time I saw her… I…” He says, and he cannot bite back his tongue anymore. He stops, swallowing the poison at the top of his lips. “I don’t even know what am I doing anymore, or what should I suppose to do.”

He makes a pause, ashamed of his corniness, then he laughs absurdly.

“She doesn’t hate you, you know,” his eyes burn and starts rubbing his eyes firmly, “I know her well. She’ll pretend to be mad, yeah, but the very stupid is fucking sentimental on the inside. It’s me the one she should hate. Sometimes I wish she would, everything would be easier that way.”

Suddenly, Ayato doesn’t laugh anymore. Silence wraps him like the kind of silences that reigns in the coldest days of winter, when breathing hurts and everything is quiet.

“Sometimes I wish I could hate her too.”

That’s the last thing he says, the last thing he will say. Ayato stands still staring at the darkness for a couple of minutes when he turns his head slightly to see hers and find nothing but a sleepy Hinami, closed eyes and bangs cut bad onto her pale face and Ayato sighs.

It doesn’t make any sense.

“What the hell am I doing, fuck… “ He whispers and carefully leans his hand to remove the rebel bangs. The image of Hinami sleeping placidly in his bed is the only relaxing thing Ayato have seen in a very long time. “Stupid girl.”

_Look what you make me do._

And there is no turning back for him now. He can’t sleep and definitely he’s not going to stay in that room pretending that he shared a nice time with Hinami when he allowed the walls to break momentarily, like it never happens. Ayato stays a couple of minutes more, staring at her silently, and then he sits up from the bed because he’s a son of night, darkness is the place where he truly belongs and even if the room is under the dusk, Hinami’s presence covers everything with a blinding light that Ayato is not ready to face, not yet. In silence he sports his black jacket and his boots and with shaky hands and an annoying blush, Ayato covers Hinami with other blankets that he finds over there, the night is too chilly and he doesn’t want to be his babysitter if she catches a cold by accident.

He opens the door quietly and with onyx eyes he stares at her one last time, her thin body sleeping peacefully in his bed and she looks too quiet, out of danger, away from Takizawa’s screams and Eto’s tortures.

Ayato wishes to be that way forever.

“Good night, Hina,” he whispers before leaving, even if she can’t hear him.

More than any other person in the world, she deserves it.


End file.
